Wednesday, November 30, 2016

It's Wednesday, and I have a short yet hot excerpt to get you through the week, it's from my release with Liquid Silver Publishing. There's something about a rugged man brought to his knees by a beautiful woman. And that's what has happened here.

Time for me to Tease Away...

In Samantha he found contentment. His heart pounded as he thought about touching her soft skin. It made his nerves tingle, and her scent captivated him. It told him that she was his mate and her strength confirmed it. She stood up to her alpha and fought for what was right. And it was so damned sexy. She made him want to make love to her until she called out his name begging for more. Samantha had seized his soul and now she owned it.

Samantha Dixon rescues a wounded wolf shifter in the woods near her home … and unwittingly gets drawn into a dangerous game of cat and mouse with a murderer. Callum Blake is on the trail of an evil man who would be king of all wolfkind, no matter the cost … it’s up to Callum to stop him. How can Callum fulfill his duty to protect his pack and save the woman who is destined to be his mate?

Monday, November 28, 2016

Blurb
Enter the fourth world - a world of lust and shadows, where anything can happen.
Obsessive passion and dark ecstasy mark these seven stories of paranormal desire from eroticist Lisabet Sarai.

An undead couple hunts for beauty and youth in the history-drenched streets of Prague. A sex addict meets his fate in the embrace of a seductive monster. An innocent writer offers her body and heart to a century-old ghost. A spiritual seeker succumbs to temptation in the arms of a fearsome and greedy goddess. A kinky, blood-drenched threesome unfolds in a luxurious Bangkok penthouse. These tales conjure the magic of sex, and its dangers. Expect to be unbearably aroused and occasionally terrified.

Do not expect happily ever afters.

Warnings: This collection includes violence, blood, death, extreme BDSM, and some M/M interaction.--Story Excerpt
I don't like to think of them as prey. That feels too cold-blooded. Juliana says that I'm sentimental, but after all, we rarely take their lives. They surrender to us their youth, their vitality, their beauty, a few memories. In return, we gift them with a taste of ecstasy, even if they will recall it only dimly. That, and a lingering darkness. For the rest of their short days, they bear the mark of our touch on their souls.

No, I prefer to consider them as pets, or perhaps as toys. We do, indeed, discard them when we become bored. How many have we lured, over the centuries? I cannot count. Indeed, it disturbs me to think about this, for I cannot summon the face of a single one.

We will hunt tonight. I stand at the arching windows of our flat, watching dusk paint the Vltava in a thousand shades of gray. Across the river, the spires of the castle rise in graceful silhouette against mauve banks of cloud. In the background, Juliana plays Lizst. Her fiery restlessness is apparent in the music. She doesn't want to wait any longer.

Long ago, we learned to sate our physical hunger with the blood of dumb beasts. Yet this was not enough. Gradually we came to realize that we could not survive without tasting the fascination and the fear of human victims. We need their rosy, yielding flesh, their scents of musk and salt, their quickened breathing. We crave the worship we see in their eyes, the willingness—no, the eagerness—to surrender their entire selves to our unearthly beauty and power.

We are addicted to the drug of humanity. I find this both ironic and somehow satisfying, this understanding that regardless of our invulnerability and near-omnipotence, our destinies are inextricably entwined with those of mortals. I sometimes wonder if God is likewise dependent on man (or vampire). Do we provide the same validation for His existence? Do we assuage the same kind of lust?

Juliana tells me that I am too philosophical.

--

Adult Excerpt

“Master Carl?” My eyes trained respectfully on his scuffed boots, I stand back to let him enter. The door swings shut behind him.

He peels the zipper down and hauls out his massive, uncut cock. “Suck me first. If you do a good job, maybe I'll get out my knife.”

I have no opportunity to reply. He mashes the head of his dick against my lips, pushes them apart, and drives his rod down my throat. When I sputter and choke around the rigid plug of flesh, he draws back a bit, letting me gulp air into my lungs. Then he rams back in, but this time, I'm ready. I suck at him like a kid with an ice cream soda, swirling my tongue over his bulb and tickling the ridge beneath.

He groans a bit. His blunt fingers clutch my shoulders to hold me still while he thrusts. He's found his rhythm now, a hard, fast plunge followed by a slower withdrawal. My lips cling to the sleek, steely bulk of him each time he retreats.

Despite the funky smell of his jeans, he tastes clean, a bit flowery, as if he used perfumed soap. I'm reminded of them—my real master and mistress—and all at once I'm on the edge of coming. I tense, knowing that's not permitted and my abuser senses the change. He's a serious Dom, despite his tough demeanor, attuned to his submissive's reactions. His hesitation gives me the chance for a deep breath and the urge subsides a bit, though my cock still throbs every time he fills my mouth.

I let myself pretend that the cock I'm sucking belongs to my master. He's longer and more slender than Carl, but I don't doubt he'd be equally rough. Cruelty is a habit for him. Closing my eyes, I picture him looming over me, his raven curls tumbling over his brow, his lips stretched in a taut grimace of pleasure. I've never tasted him, never touched him, but I know his skin would be cool and silky. His cock would be hard as a marble tomb.

When I was a little girl, my dad would make up stories for my siblings and me, fabulous sagas about ghosts and monsters, magical races with mysterious powers, heroes on impossible quests, hidden treasures awaiting only the most courageous seeker. I blame him for my lifelong fascination with the magical and miraculous.

Now that I've grown up, I create my own tales of wonder, weaving in generous portions of human desire with its potent enchantments. Lust and power—terror and ecstasy—my paranormal stories will make you believe in magick.

Sunday, November 27, 2016

Hello Everyone! It's Sunday and time for a Sexy Snippet. Today Seven Sentence Delight is from Erotic Menage a Trois- Merry Chris Mas, just in time for the Holidays.

Chris doesn't know what to do now that he's found the woman of his dreams along with being reunited with his best friend. Is it all too good to be true?

Sexy Snippet:

The idea of waking up with them every day scared and thrilled him. Jilly with her sparkling, hazel eyes and plump lips that wrapped around his cock so perfectly that thinking about it made it twitch in
his pants. He sighed, easing back the ache that it ignited in his dick. And her body, it was so beautiful. Whenever he touched her he just wanted to ram his cock inside her tight pussy and hold it there until
she begged for mercy.

Then there was Chris. The bond he built with him in Afghanistan had proved to him that he could love a man that wasn’t related to him. When they were split apart, he was sure he’d never see him again.

Jilly Reimers wants love but can't find it. Chris Spinell is a veteran of the war in Afghanistan who suffers from PTSD and a haunting feeling that something is missing in his life. Chris Poole is also an Afghanistan war veteran is ready to break out of his shell but is unsure how. With Christmas just around the corner, they decide not to spend it alone. Believing The Love Play Matchmaking Service to be just what they need for a night of fun and passion, they sign up. But when the guys show up and see that they've been set up on a menage, the only one happy about it is Jilly. Their consultant, called an Eros, assures Jilly that the service has a perfect track record but she's certain they'll be the first ones to get their money back. Will they have a very merry Christmas? Or will the three spend yet another one alone?

Friday, November 25, 2016

Two scarred souls: one physically, one mentally. Both on the mend, hiding from their pasts…

Blurb:

Mace Walker can’t wait to get home.

Being buried deep undercover for the past two years, on the most complex case of his career, has torn him down physically and mentally. Now the FBI agent has come home to recover after having his leg badly injured from a gunshot wound. Arriving home late one night, his relief is short-lived as he’s faced with a stranger pointing a gun to his head, acting like he is the one who doesn’t belong there!

Colby Parks, a biochemist at the local university, had come to town a year earlier to escape an abusive relationship. She vows never to put herself in that situation again.

Then the perfect opportunity comes along: house-sitting for Mace’s sister while making the house she purchased habitable. But she couldn’t anticipate this big snag: the one wearing the tight Levi’s and worn leather jacket, looking like he had just escaped prison.

Being forced to share a house creates sparks between them in more ways than one. However, things take a turn when their pasts catch up to them, threatening to pull them apart forever.

Excerpt:

Home.

Relief flooded over Mace Walker as he twisted the key in the lock, gave the front door a shove, and stepped over the threshold. Finally home. About time.

Time to heal.

The foyer was dark, but he didn’t need to hit the light switch. Even being gone for as long as he had been, he still knew the house well enough. He made his way to the stairs and set down his bags. Those two small duffels didn’t hold much evidence of his life for the past couple of years. Just some toiletries and a few basic items of clothing.

As he straightened, the foyer lit up, blinding him for a second. He blinked when a young voice rang out from the top of the steps. “Hold it right there! Put your arms up and back away from the stairs.”

What the fuck?

Mace had expected to see his sister bounding down the stairway of his two-story colonial, excited after not seeing her brother for the past two years. Actually, more like one year, eleven months and fifteen days. Not that he was counting. But instead, he stared up into the deadly eye of a Glock. And from his viewpoint it looked like a model 23, a .40 caliber. A compact but still a decent sized gun in a very small, very uneasy hand. Instantly, the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

Damn. He’d dealt with crime bosses and their flunkies--from drug to porno rings--and had managed to survive. Now he was going to be killed by some measly punk he surprised while burglarizing his house? The cruel irony made him want to laugh. Instead, he did as he was instructed. With caution, he raised his hands above his head before stepping back toward the middle of the foyer. He avoided standing directly under the light, trying to get a better view of the top of the steps. But he didn’t have much success; the upstairs hallway and the upper section of the stairway were hidden in shadows.

If he played his cards right, this little situation would be under his control in no time at all. He just had to keep the kid calm and make the skinny punk believe he was the one in command. From experience, Mace knew the Glock didn’t have a conventional safety. All the kid had to do was pull the trigger and pull it again and again until all the rounds in the clip emptied into Mace’s body. And from what he could see in the limited light, the kid’s fingers were twitching from nervousness.

Not a good sign.

Where had a young punk gotten an expensive handgun like that? It certainly hadn’t been in the house. And if it had been, it would have been locked up in the gun safe.

If only he could see the boy’s face. He needed to see the eyes. Without seeing his eyes, Mace couldn’t even begin to predict what the kid would do.

“Don’t you dare move or I’ll blow your face off!” The kid’s voice raised an octave, making him sound more and more like ... a girl.

Tension ran through Mace’s body as the person started down the steps. At first he could see bare toes, a slim calf, then another. His gaze flicked to the gun, before returning to the shapely naked thighs which couldn’t belong to a kid--no way. Especially not a boy. Those smooth legs definitely belonged to a woman--and he couldn’t wait to see the rest of her. So far, the view almost made it worth being held at gunpoint. Almost.

He was disappointed when an oversized T-shirt--shit, was that Marmaduke on it?--blocked his view of creamy flesh. His arms were tired, his leg throbbed painfully, and his patience was wearing thin. But he still wasn’t going to move, since he had no idea who this woman descending the stairs was. His curiosity piqued when she stepped down into the light, which highlighted her long, curly red hair and made her wide, green--glaring--eyes sparkle and snap.

A twitch shot through his lower stomach and landed in his groin. Fear or pain didn’t make him suck in his breath. It was her unrestricted breasts bobbing under the cotton shirt with each step she took. Her nipples stood out like two beacons under the worn cotton. Jesus.

He had to clear his throat twice before he could ask her, “Are you robbing this house, dressed like that?”

"Banged Up is an action packed, erotic adventure that will keep you on the edge of your seat until the very last page. The sexual tension starts building as soon as Mace and Colby lay eyes on one another, and their relationship just gets hotter and hotter until their passion explodes. The dialog is fast-paced and evocative, leading their relationship along at a fast pace. There’s humor, drama, tragedy, and some really hot sex. This book has something for everyone and will keep you guessing about the ending right up to the last page. I couldn’t put it away and I plan to read it again. I definitely give this book 5 Heats and recommend you read it as soon as possible."

---

Author Bio:

JEANNE ST. JAMES is an erotic romance author who loves an Alpha male (or two). She was only thirteen when she started writing since it gave her an escape from teenage angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages.

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

When inquisitive antique dealer Cami Wilson learns she’s the revered offspring of an immortal mother and a mortal father, it’s not just her hybrid status that has her all flustered. The title comes with her very own super-sexy guardian.

Jaded immortal Joseph Carlisle has only one thing on his mind; his sworn duty to protect the hybrid from those who wish her harm. Anything else would be complicated. That is until they meet.
Chemistry sizzles between them but there’s a problem—the hybrid’s curse. Cami’s touch, skin to skin, proves near fatal to her and all immortals, Joseph included.

But the fated lovers discover her curse is the least of their concerns when a friend’s deadly betrayal threatens to tear them apart forever.

--

Excerpt:

He might have just saved her life, but pinned to the freezing concrete by some wannabe hero was not her idea of fun. Cami Wilson shoved the unyielding wall of his chest, fighting not only him but the rising panic. ‘Get the hell off me!’

The guy remained on top of her, using his large frame to protect her from the chunks of smouldering metal hurtling to the ground around her. Icy air met with fiery heat and smoke infused the atmosphere like the fifth of November, but there were no sparkling fireworks to admire, only the flaming inferno, which seconds earlier had been her car.

Maybe if she hadn’t been so intrigued by the antique brooch she held in her hand or distracted by the weird, periodic buzzing emitting from it, she might have seen him coming at her in full, rugby tackle mode.

He lifted a little, easing the crushing pressure on her ribs, but remained inches from her face. Glacier-blue eyes met hers, captivating and intense. ‘Are you hurt?’

His gravelly voice did something tingly to her insides. She went to speak, but no words came. Nothing came to mind. Not the explosion. Not the contents of her shopping trolley strewn all over Morrisons’ car park. Not the fact she could have been killed. Somehow, none of it registered.
She gawped back at him like a doe-eyed teenager, taking in the angular sweep of a jawline peppered with dark stubble, and well-defined lips that parted invitingly as he drew in his breath.

His gaze lingered on her mouth in a breath-taking moment right out of one of those soppy rom-coms she liked to watch

Forget burning cars and curious brooches… hel-lo, future husband.

Somewhere to her left, an engine revved loudly, and he turned his head towards the sound. Overlong, tousled hair tickled her cheek, and she got a faint whiff of citrus shampoo.

Hmm, lovely…

A second later, his attention returned to her. His grave expression burned with an urgency that brought her down from the clouds. ‘Dammit! I asked if you were hurt.’

‘No, I…’

In a move so swift it wasn’t humanly possible, he leapt to his feet and hauled her up beside him. The brooch slipped from her gloved hand and landed on the ground.

The man cursed under his breath and stooped to retrieve it. With an exasperated look, he waved it in front of her as though she were a baby dropping her dummy for the hundredth time. ‘You need to take more care of this. Don’t you know how important it is?’

Sudden indignation flared. Cami snatched the jewel from his grasp and slipped it back into her coat pocket. Okay, the guy rocked the sexy, just-rolled-out-of-bed look, but his patronising attitude set her teeth on edge. What right did he have to tell her what to do? And what on Earth did he know about a weird, vibrating brooch she’d been given by her adoptive mother, the only clue she had to her past?

Author Bio:
Abbey MacMunn writes paranormal, fantasy and sci fi romance. She lives in Hampshire, UK with her husband and their four children. She is a proud member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association.
When she’s not writing, she likes to watch films and TV shows – anything from rom-coms to superheroes to science fiction movies.

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Big city party-girl Amanda Barber has been spoiled most of her life. But life for Amanda suddenly becomes a major challenge: adapting to small town life, dealing with her handicapped brother and constantly butting heads with a frustrating local cop.

As a police officer and former Marine, “responsibility” is Max Bryson’s middle name. Never having been in a serious relationship, he has no plans for being in one in the near future. He likes being his own man. And even if he were interested in a serious relationship, he certainly wouldn’t choose it to be with someone so immature and irresponsible as Amanda. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get sexy Amanda out of his head or his heart. Watching her mature in front of his eyes, his protectiveness towards her only strengthens.

Bossy and possessive aren’t the only words Amanda uses to describe this frustrating cop. She can’t deny just looking at the man makes her tremble. But she’s done with having anyone control her and this man isn’t going to be any different. Or is he?

Excerpt:

She laid her head on his shoulder and snuggled her nose into his neck. She could feel his strong pulse against her cheek.

It felt so good to be in his arms. She circled his tattoo with her finger. Semper Fi. Mary Ann had made sure to tell Amanda that it meant “always faithful.”

“Did you always want to be a cop?”

He had one hand on her hip and the other on her thigh, rubbing it slowly back and forth. “Yes.”

She waited a moment, and when he said nothing further, she prodded. “Why?”

His deep voice resonated through his chest. “I was always in awe of my grandfather and my father. That’s why I followed in their footsteps. That’s why all three of us did. The Marines first, to serve our country, and then the police department, to serve our community.”

“To protect and serve, huh?”

The pride exuded from his words. “It’s the Bryson family motto.”

She moved her nose up to nuzzle him behind the ear. “Well, you can protect and serve me anytime.”

“I’d planned to since the minute you bitched me out in that parking lot when you first came to town.”
She raised her head, pushing herself up with a palm against his chest. “You were only trying to get into my pants.”

“True…” he said slowly.

Amanda grabbed a nearby decorative pillow and whacked him.

“Hey! You didn’t let me finish. True, but when you saw me in my uniform, you just wanted a big ol’ piece of this bad boy.” He opened his arms wide as if offering himself to her.

Amanda whacked him again. “Yeah, right.”

“You can’t say you didn’t want this.” He reached out, and his long fingers cupped her face as he leaned in to kiss her. It was only a slight brush, leaving her wanting more.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Would you have kissed me if I had torn up the ticket?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“For twenty-five bucks? Get real. I wanted to take out that retractable metal stick you carry and beat you over the head.”

Max laughed. “You mean my ASP baton?”

“Whatever.”

“Only because you were sexually frustrated.”

“You wish.”

He poked her side gently. “Admit it.”

“No.”

“C’mon.”

“Okay. You’re right. I was sexually frustrated because I couldn’t jump your bones right there in the middle of town, in the free parking lot on the pavement amid a bag of spilled dog toys, while Greg looked on. Satisfied?”

His smile widened. “Yep.”

“Good. Now kiss me again.” She grabbed the back of his head and pulled it down until their lips were a breath apart. “And do it like you mean it this time.”

The light peck was easily forgotten as he claimed her mouth with his, crushing her to him. This was what she had been waiting for. She groaned into his mouth, tangling her tongue with his. She felt a twinge and wiggled her hips in his lap, feeling his body harden.

He pulled back slightly. He ran a finger under the edge of her skintight black pants. “You know, I’ve drunk too much to drive. I guess I’ll have to stay put until I sober up.”

“Hmm. Maybe I should make another pitcher to make sure it takes you a while to sober up.”

“Forget it. I want to make sure you remember everything I do to you.”

“You’re right. I want to make sure you can do everything to me.”

“So we’re going to seal this new compromise with another kiss?”

“No, even better…” Amanda unfolded herself from his lap to take his hand and lead him upstairs.
As the steps creaked underneath him, she whispered, “We need to be quiet.”

At the top of the stairs, he answered, “I’m not sure that will be possible. You squeal like a pig.”

Amanda stifled a laugh and poked him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Ow!”

“Shh!” She pulled him into the master bedroom and shut the door quickly behind them.

She leaned against the door and watched him rub his ribs. His fingers were long and strong, and she knew what they could do to her, how undone she could become. Her stomach fluttered at the thought.

He splayed himself over the bed and held out a hand to her. “I feel like a teenager trying to have sex in my parents’ house and not get caught.”

Amanda reached behind her to turn the lock.

“Are you going to be able to stay quiet?” she asked him.

A wicked smile crossed his face. “Oh yeah. But I doubt you will be able to.”

JEANNE ST. JAMES is an erotic romance author who loves an Alpha male (or two). She was only thirteen when she started writing since it gave her an escape from teenage angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages.

Friday, November 4, 2016

Hermione’s in Budapest on a romantic weekend break. Or at least it should have been romantic—an unexpected break-up means she’s visiting the Hungarian capital alone. Determined to make the most of it, she goes on a night-time river cruise, the perfect opportunity to see some of the city’s beautiful sights after dark.

On the boat, cute Budapest native Emil serves her cocktails. They chat a little on the journey, engage in some banter, and when Emil asks Hermione out for dinner, she’s seriously tempted. But she’s a long way from home, by herself—is dinner with a complete stranger a good idea? Hermione decides to take a chance, and what follows is an unforgettable night which will transform her life forever.

*****

Excerpt:
Locating the correct pier, Hermione pulled her ticket from her pocket and showed it to the girl welcoming passengers onto the boat. The girl—the badge pinned to her blouse giving her name as Reka—glanced at the ticket, and smiled.

With a nod, Hermione gingerly headed along the gangplank and boarded the vessel, wondering what Reka meant. Surely this was the boat? She shrugged, smiling at the other members of staff she passed, and followed the buzz of chatter to find the other passengers. Maybe it had been a misunderstanding, her meaning lost in translation or something.

Heading up a couple of steps to a bar room full of other tourists, she quickly took a seat at an empty table by the window. She’d have a great view of Budapest’s riverside highlights from here—and she was sure they’d look different again once night fell. Already the sky was darkening—it was almost four p.m. on a chilly January day.

She was so intent on admiring the Chain Bridge that she didn’t know there was anyone beside her until someone said, “Excuse me, madam? Would you like to take advantage of our special drinks offer?”

Turning to the source of the voice, her fluttering heart the only indication that she’d been startled, she smiled. “Maybe. What’s the offer?”

Her smile widened as she studied the man who’d spoken. He looked to be around her age—early twenties, and damn cute. Dark, slightly overlong hair curled on his head, deep brown eyes gave him an intensity that increased the flutters in her heart, and the dimpled smile he flashed as he replied lit up his handsome face.

“It is happy hour. Two drinks for price of one.” He paused, looked at the empty seat beside her, then glanced over his shoulder as though checking if anyone was coming to join her at the table. “But perhaps you would only like one? Maybe I can see if yours can be half price…”

“It’s okay,” she replied firmly. “I’m going to be on the boat for a while, I’m sure I can manage two drinks. I don’t have to have them at the same time, do I?”

He shook his head. “No. I will be serving on the other boat in a moment, so I will look after you and your drinks to make sure you get special price.”

Immediately following his mention of an additional boat, a loud voice rang out. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now ready for you to board the tour boat. Please be very careful while stepping from one boat to the other. As soon as you are all seated, we will begin the trip. Thank you.”

It was then Hermione realised that as she’d been gazing out of the window to one side, a smaller boat had pulled up alongside the one she was on. Everyone was getting up and moving to the staircase.

“Thank you,” Hermione said, glancing at the man’s name badge. “Emil. I would absolutely like to take you up on your offer.”

He smiled, and she returned the gesture, only allowing the grimace to take over her face once she was out of his view. She was glad of any language barriers at that moment—hopefully it had prevented Emil recognising the blatant double entendre in her words, inadvertent though it had been.

As she emerged into the main space of the tour boat, she worried there wasn’t enough room for her and she might have to share a table with someone else. Not that it would be the end of the world, but over the past couple of days in the Hungarian capital, she’d become accustomed to her own company, even begun enjoying it. And the beautiful city had been more than enough of a distraction, in any case.

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller) and Eyes Wide Open (an Amazon bestseller). Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 140 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter and Facebook. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Andalucía Spain, 1489: Innocent Beatriz is desperate to escape the threat of a miserable marriage to a cruel Marquis. Forced into the betrothal by her ruthless merchant papá, her only hope is to conceal her identity and become a servant in a nearby castle—a life drastically different from her comfortable upbringing.

Tomás doesn’t know what to make of his well-spoken new servant girl. Her beauty and charm captivates the military hero; her mysterious nature intrigues him. And the desire she ignites burns brighter with each glance, as does his longing to claim her for his own.

Beatriz can’t resist Tomás’ passion nor deny the heat of her own. But neither the lush countryside nor the walls of the opulent Moorish castle can entirely protect her—and if he were to discover her secret, she could be torn away from him forever. Yet how can she sustain his love if she’s living a lie?

Excerpt:

A gentle breeze carried laughter and converse from the señoritas who surrounded Tomás, each vying for his attention. The one in dark green silk with a matching caul danced around trying to get closer to him. The one in red with a white flower in her hair elbowed past another girl. Those in gold and bright yellow were even less demure, pushing into each other, speaking loudly, far removed from how a lowly servant had to act.

Especially to please Nuncio.

How dare he make her solely responsible for a man’s carnal moves? Beatriz had no control over anyone’s passion except her own. Thus far, she’d failed miserably at quelling her desires.

Despite what Nuncio had said, she still ached to feel Tomás’s heat and strength, to have him imprison and possess her. No threat in the world would change her longing. However, she wasn’t foolish enough to act on her attraction. Poor man already had enough trouble.

His broad shoulders were slumped, mouth turned down. She wanted to make him smile. To have him stand as the noble lord he was, magnificent in his dark blue robe and doublet, his hose snug to his sinewy thighs and calves.

Several young women spoke to him at once. A señorita in a bright yellow gown touched his upper arm. The girl next to her, clad in vivid orange silk, touched his jaw.

Jealousy heated Beatriz’s face and throat.

Tomás drew back until the young woman groped air, not him. He faced the window, his gaze touching Beatriz, his dark brown eyes flooding with warmth, bronze complexion deepening.

Weak with desire, she leaned against the sill for support.

The señoritas gestured to him, talking endlessly, their words too garbled to understand.

Whatever they said, Tomás ignored them. He studied Beatriz’s eyes, then her lips and lingered there. She was smiling without realizing it. He answered with a broad grin and stepped closer.

About Tina:

Tina is an Amazon and international bestselling novelist in erotic, paranormal, contemporary and historical romance for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly,Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three of her erotic novels (Freeing the Beast, Come and Get Your Love, and Wicked Takeover) were Readers' Choice Award winners. Another three (Adored, Lush Velvet Nights, and Deep, Dark, Delicious) were named finalists in the EPIC competition. Sensual Stranger, her erotic contemporary romance, was chosen Book of the Year at the French review site Blue Moon reviews. The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love Loves Books was created specifically for her erotic romance Lush Velvet Nights. Two of her titles (The Yearning and Deep, Dark, Delicious) received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition. Take Me Away and Adored both won second place in the NEC RWA contest (different years). Tina is featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Thank you for hosting me for my latest book, Meredith’s Mates. This book releases on November 8th with Siren Publishing.

Blurb:

Trouble is brewing on Hades. Strome has a reputation for cruelty and when he tries to force a pair of innocent young people into mating with him, winged Meredith goes to rescue them. Little does he expect his life to change forever. He meets and rescues the mates he's been searching for all his adult life.

Safely back on Prosper, he sets out to win their love and make them forget their ill treatment at the hands of Strome. However, a misunderstanding brings danger to his mates from an unexpected quarter.

Will Meredith succeed in thwarting the plans of a wicked woman determined to get her way? Will he rescue his mates from a future of slavery, and can he convince them of his true feelings toward them?

After I’d written Angel in Hell, based on an image sent to me by a reader, another reader sent me this image of a bronze winged being and inspired Meredith’s story. He was a significant minor character in the first book, and I felt he deserved his own story.

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STORY EXCERPT
There was a sharp knock on the door. Meredith happened to be crossing the hallway, so he decided to answer the door himself. As he drew nearer to it, he heard voices he recognised.

“Why have you dragged me here?” Oronsay asked.

“I told you why. We need his help,” Colonsay replied in a petulant voice.

“He won’t want to go there. I told you that already.”

“He must. We need him to do this. There’s no one else who is so perfect.”

Meredith listened indulgently for a while, and then he opened the door. He suffered a pang as his gaze fell on Oronsay, such a beautiful young man. There was a greater confidence in his air now, but he was still under Colonsay’s thumb. She positively glowed, and as his gaze flowed over her, he noticed the softly rounded belly and all was explained. These babies would be Oronsay’s, so no wonder he was so protective.

“Well. What are you two doing here? Do come inside,” Meredith suggested.

“Thank you,” Oronsay replied as he gave his arm to his mate to help her into the house.

Meredith smiled. He ushered them into the main room and sent the servant, who was hovering in the hall to collect refreshment. Until he returned, they chatted about indifferent topics. Meredith sensed that, in spite of custom, Colonsay wouldn’t be able to keep the real reason for her visit until they had taken wine, or fruit juice and cakes. He was correct. No sooner had the servant deposited the tray on the small table and departed, than she turned her small face to him.

“Lord Meredith, I’ve come to ask you for a favour.”

“What can I do for you, my dear?”

“My cousins are in trouble, on Hades,” she said.

“I see. What exactly is it that you need me to do?”

A loud knock fell upon the door. The servant went to open it. It was on Meredith’s lips to tell him to say his master wasn’t available, when he recognised the voice. Arielle came into the room and looked ruefully at his mates.

“What are you doing here, Colonsay? Why are you allowing her to bother Meredith, Oronsay?”

In the five years since he’d formed his triad and taken his inheritance as the rightful ruler of Prosper, he’d grown in maturity and assurance. The settled life suited him. He was very protective of his mates, and justifiably proud of his achievements.

“What is it, my dear? Why can’t I help?” Arielle asked.

“Because you have formed your triad, and you are so well-known on Hades. This has to be a man who has yet to do that,” Colonsay said in a soft voice, holding out her hand to her lord, who took it, turned it, and placed several kisses upon her wrist.

“You’d better explain it all to me, to us,” Arielle suggested.

“First you must be seated and take some wine, while you do that Colonsay can explain,” Meredith said.

“My cousins are in trouble on Hades,” Colonsay repeated for Arielle’s benefit.

“How do you know that? Have you received word recently?” Meredith asked.

“No. They can’t send word, but I know.”

“She’s talking about the rapport between females. She can’t read minds, or any such thing, but she can sense when one of her close female relatives is in distress,” Oronsay explained.

“Ah, I see, but why can’t you ask Arielle? Surely as your mate he’s the one who should do this?” Meredith asked.

“Arielle has formed his triad, and so he can’t be the one to go and rescue them,” Colonsay explained.
By this time Arielle had taken his wine, but declined the proffered cakes.

“Vatersay has just come of age. Her mate, Berneray, has been of age for two years and living in her family for three. They will both be well trained by now, and, as they are both of age, there is pressure on them to marry. I don’t know the details, but I do know she’s in danger. She’s distressed, and we must do something.”

Colonsay stood up and started to pace about the room. Her delicate wings fluttered reflecting her agitation. Oronsay and Arielle rose and the latter took them both in his arms, bent his head, and folded his wings about them.

Meredith felt distinctly de trop. The private moment didn’t last long, but when Arielle released his mates, they both looked much more at ease. Meredith envied them this closeness and support. He’d been thinking about forming his own triad, but he had no candidates in mind, so he was open to the suggestion of going to Hades to seek them. After all, Arielle had returned from his adventure there with two mates who made him very happy. What do I have to lose?

“You are forgetting Kaleen and his mate, Sheeva. It’s true that since he was exiled to Hades, there’s been a lot more contact with that island. I wouldn’t like to fall foul of him. I have too much to lose now,” Arielle said.

When he saw how agitated Colonsay became, he continued, “but if you think it’s the only way, then go I will, my pet.”

“I can go alone,” Meredith offered.

“No, it has to do with my mate’s family, so I will go with you. Besides, I’ve been there and I know a little about the customs. Oronsay, you will remain here and guard Colonsay.”

“No! I have to go. Vatersay won’t know either of you. Your size alone will scare her. I must go to reassure her. You don’t know our customs well enough either, so you need someone to advise you. Oronsay can stay here and take care of all those things you do when I’m not allowed to go with you. If I’m not around for him to worry about, he will be better able to concentrate on that.”

Arielle smiled.

“In your condition…” he began.

“Do not go down that road, my Lord. I’m very well, and a sea voyage would do me the world of good, according to the healers,” she countered.

Meredith held his breath. He’d needed to offer them a way out, but he really hoped they wouldn’t take it. He watched as Vatersay nodded to Berneray, and then Berneray stood up and came over to him. Vatersay took a little longer, but she followed Berneray’s example. Meredith stood and held out his arms. They wrapped theirs around him, and Meredith folded his great wings around himself and his family. He breathed in the fragrance of the herbs in the soap they’d used to bathe. They were aromatic and pleasing to the senses, but mingled with the special scent that was theirs and theirs alone, the effect was heady, and a little overwhelming. He felt the need to protect them, but also a growing desire.

“Come and sit with me,” Meredith suggested.

He sat on the sofa, and they placed themselves on either side of him. He placed an arm around each and was delighted that they responded at once, leaning into him and snuggling into his embrace. Vatersay freed herself and knelt on the sofa. She took his face between her small hands and gazed into his eyes. Meredith looked back at her, warmth and desire in his eyes. She caught her breath, and then she leaned in and kissed him tentatively.

He longed to seize her in his arms and crush her to him as he possessed her mouth, but he restrained himself, with difficulty. He clasped her gently in one arm. She ran her small tongue along the seam of his lips and he opened for her, inviting her in. She flicked her tongue over his, and then she dipped into his mouth. As he stroked her tongue with his, she moaned and grasped his hair in her small fists.

She pulled him closer to her. He accepted the invitation and plundered her mouth. He kissed her long and deeply, until she was panting and heated. He released her and turned to Berneray who knelt on the sofa and offered his mouth to his lord. Vatersay snuggled close and licked and nipped Meredith’s chest and neck as Meredith took possession of Berneray’s mouth. The scent of the soap that they’d used was different on Berneray. The musk of his arousal, and his hard cock pressing into Meredith as they kissed, enflamed them both. Meredith’s dick began to grow uncomfortably hard.

He felt Vatersay slip out of his embrace and off the sofa. Her hands relieved him of his loincloth. She took his cock in one hand and ran her tongue over the engorged head, dipping into his slit with increasing pressure as her other hand caressed his balls. His dick throbbed with a life of its own. She licked and nibbled at the pulsing vein on the side of his cock. At the same time, she kneaded and rolled his balls in his sac. She seemed to know exactly when pressure became pain and avoided causing him discomfort. Berneray’s arms were around Meredith’s neck and he kissed his lord long and passionately. He rubbed his chest against Meredith’s and his hands stroked down his neck to find his nipples. Meredith groaned as Berneray rolled and plucked at the buds.

As Berneray kissed licked and nibbled his way to where his hands played, Vatersay swirled her tongue around the head of Meredith’s dick, paying particular attention to the sensitive underside. Berneray took one of Meredith’s nipples into his mouth, pinching and flicking the other. Vatersay sucked his cock deeply into her mouth, using her tongue to caress him, and then she sucked in her cheeks, taking him deeper and driving him inexorably to the edge. His hips began to move and she stilled, allowing him to fuck her mouth. The pressure began to build, and he thrust deep in and out of her mouth until he came. His hot seed shot into the back of her throat and she swallowed obligingly. When he was done, she licked him clean, allowing his softening dick to slip from between her lips.

Meredith lay back on the sofa, sated and almost humming in contentment. When he had recovered sufficiently, he enfolded them in his arms and wrapped his wings about them, enclosing them in a private world of their own, again. The feeling of joy that possessed him, as well as the urge to defend these two against any possible hurt or danger, surprised him by its intensity. He could have remained there forever, but his mates needed him. He released them, and led them to the large bed. He folded his wings and lay down on his back. He held out his arms and was delighted at the speed with which they both cuddled into his embrace. He sighed contentedly, and then he turned to kiss Berneray again.

The man’s mouth, with its plump lips was just as delightful to taste as Meredith had imagined. He couldn’t get enough of him. Meredith surged into the kiss, dominating his man as Berneray lay back to receive him, caressing Meredith’s arms and chest. Meredith loved the feel of Berneray’s hands on him. He responded by gathering him into his arms. He lifted him off the bed, so that Berneray’s more delicate wings didn’t have to bear the weight of both their bodies. Berneray sucked on Meredith’s tongue, and then he used to tip of his own to tease and incite. He moaned in pleasure when Meredith responded.

His cock was hot and hard against Meredith’s belly. Meredith withdrew his tongue and Berneray followed, plunging into his lord’s mouth and seizing the tip of his tongue in his teeth, flicking his own tongue back and forth over the captive tip. Vatersay hopped off the bed and Meredith heard her pad round the bed and get onto the bed behind Berneray.

She nestled into his back, and her small hands stroked Meredith’s arms. Her lips and tongue followed as she nipped and licked her way to his hands. She sucked one thumb into her mouth, alternating between licking, sucking, and nipping. Meredith grew hard once more as he remembered that hot little mouth on his cock. He broke off the kiss and lay back panting. Vatersay looked at him, smiled, and then she climbed over Berneray and lay on Meredith’s chest. She framed his face with her hands as their gazes locked, and then she kissed him soundly. He wanted to fuck them both so badly and right now. As he kissed Vatersay long and passionately, his cock swelled until it seemed to have a mind of its own.

He released Vatersay’s mouth, as he lifted her off his chest, to position her on her hands and knees on the bed.

5 questions for the author:1. Why is the series called Angel in Hell?
I mentioned the picture that a reader sent to me.

(Image of Silver winged man in sea…. Sent as a Jpeg)

When I began to think of the story I came up with the idea of a whole new world. Two races of winged beings live on two islands. I chose the names of Hades and Prospero. They are opposites and where Hades has barbarous customs, Prospero is enlightened. After naming one island Hades, there was only one possible title for the book.

2. Are there going to be any more in this series?

I can’t imagine there will be another, but I only expected to write one, so I’d better not say there never will be one.

3. What else is there in the pipeline?
I have a short story in an anthology to be published by VINVATAR in the New Year. It’s a re-issue of Life on the Edge with a brilliant new cover.

4. What of Prometheus in Chains?
I am writing the next book in the series. As so many of the Doms seems to have entered stable relationships it’s time to introduce a few new single Doms and a couple of subs. That should make life interesting in the club.5. What of Flora McGregor?
I am writing a second wolf shifter, this time it will start out as MM, but it’s a ménage.
Which one will be first? Well that very much depends on the characters.

Author bio:

I live in Dumfries and Galloway in Southern Scotland, although I was born in South Yorkshire. I spent many happy years teaching, and when I retired, I became bored with just the domestic routine.
My youngest son challenged me to write a novel of my own, and I wrote Initiation, book one in the Prometheus in Chains series. Since then, writing has become an important part of my life. It’s been like a roller-coaster ride, and a very pleasurable one at that. When I sent off my first book to Siren, I had no idea what I was setting in motion. I joined Facebook, something I never dreamed I’d do, but I have made many good friends on there, some readers and some fellow authors. Writing has certainly changed my life.

I am very grateful for all the help and advice I have received from everyone at Siren, especially my editor, and Christine for so many beautiful covers. A special mention goes to Sage Marlowe for his encouragement and for beta reading my books. I thank Master "K" for his encouragement over the Kinbaku scenes. I am grateful to Lyn L. for beta reading this book. I am also indebted to my many readers and friends on Facebook, for their unfailing support and affection.
I would love to hear from you, and I always answer e-mails or contacts on Facebook.